


Day 9: Is Something Burning?

by mrs_d



Series: Do What I Wantober 2020 [9]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: Is something burning? Barry wondered at first.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West
Series: Do What I Wantober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947496
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Day 9: Is Something Burning?

_ Is something burning? _ Barry wondered at first. 

Then, as he woke up a little more, he thought,  _ Maybe I’m having a seizure. _

Then he opened his eyes and took in the bright room, the empty side of the bed, and the quiet, steady stream of curse words coming from the other side of the closed door. 

_ Burned toast, _ he concluded, and he smiled as he got out of bed. He followed his nose to the kitchen and found Iris standing at the counter, desperately scraping at a very black piece of what used to be bread. 

“Tenth time not the charm after all?” he asked.

Iris jumped in surprise and whirled around. “You’re supposed to be sleeping in,” she accused him. 

Barry grimaced. He’d almost forgotten about their close call last night, and the reminder wasn’t exactly pleasant. He wasn’t sore anymore, thanks to his powers, but still. 

“I slept enough,” he replied. Iris didn’t look pleased, exactly, but she didn’t press the issue, either. 

Barry made his way to the coffee pot, which seemed to be the morning’s only success. The rich aroma cut through the charred scent of whatever Iris had been trying to cook, and Barry hummed with pleasure as he took the first sip.

“I haven’t tried this ten times,” said Iris suddenly. “Have I?”

Barry looked up, about to reply with a quip about his memory, when he caught the expression on Iris’s face. 

“No,” he said seriously. “No, Iris, I was just kidding.”

But Iris didn’t look comforted. In fact, her eyes were welling up, but she picked up the toast and turned away to toss it in the garbage.

“Hey,” Barry said in a low voice. “What’s going on?”

Iris stood with her back to him, but she wasn’t hiding anything — Barry knew she was crying. He set his coffee down and went to her side at once. 

“Iris?” he said, as she sniffed and shook her head. 

“I’m okay,” she replied, despite the evidence to the contrary. “Just— hormones, or something.”

Barry frowned. Iris wasn’t one to blame her feelings on external factors, and he’d read enough of her blog posts about feminism to know that the theory about women being more emotional than men was misogynist nonsense.

“Last night,” she said, before he could speak. “It was really hard, Barry.”

“I know,” he said. He took her hands in his and led them away from the garbage can, to the couch where they could sit down. 

“And all I could think about was, what if something happened?” said Iris. “What if you didn’t come home, and I didn’t get to tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Barry asked. 

Iris half-smiled, even as more tears spilled out of her eyes. “Barry, I’m pregnant,” she said.

The world seemed to freeze. If it weren’t for a pigeon zooming by the window, he would think that he’d entered Flashtime again, that he was moving faster than everything and everyone around him. But he wasn’t moving at all. He wasn’t even thinking, really; he just stared, letting Iris’s announcement sink in. 

“And I know the timing is all wrong,” she went on. Her voice broke a little. “I know that we only just got married, and you’re the Flash, and I’m—”

“We’re the Flash,” Barry corrected her, coming out of his trance at last. He squeezed her hands and, when that wasn’t enough, he pulled her forward into his arms. 

“Iris, honey,” he said into her sweet-smelling curls. “You’re incredible. I love you so much.”

“You too,” she murmured. She raised her head and kissed him, but pulled back after only a moment. He watched with some concern as she closed her eyes and pressed her mouth shut. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Iris nodded. “My morning sickness started a couple days ago,” she explained. “And apparently coffee is a trigger.”

“You didn’t have to make it for me,” Barry started to say, but Iris excused herself and went straight to the bathroom.

Barry winced, feeling awkward and out-of-sorts. He suspected that he would be feeling like this a lot over the next nine months... once the giddy sense of awe wore off, of course. 

Iris had a point: the timing was wrong, in the sense that they hadn’t intended to try for a baby so soon. But he couldn’t help thinking that there was a lot right, too. They’d be okay — and he’d be extra careful on the job from now on. No more rushing into burning buildings when the fire department was already on the way. And definitely no more Nazi-infested hell dimensions or nuclear bombs. 

And no more Iris making breakfast. No more Iris cooking at all, he decided. He stood up, then zoomed around the loft. He popped two more pieces of bread in the toaster and put the kettle on, then dumped the full pot of coffee down the drain. He threw away the remnants of the eggs Iris had tried to cook and dug a box of ginger tea out of the cupboard. It was dusty, but probably still good. He arranged the butter, peanut butter, and jam on the table, so Iris could choose which she’d like. (It would be peanut butter. It was always peanut butter.) He sliced a banana into a bowl and added a handful of raspberries from the carton that he bought yesterday morning at the farmer’s market. He remembered to eject the toast early, so it didn’t burn, and picked up the kettle when it boiled.

By the time Iris opened the bathroom door a few seconds later, there was a cup of hot tea on the table and breakfast waiting. 


End file.
